THE    DOOR    OF    DREAMS 


THE  DOOR  OF  DREAMS 


BY 

JESSIE   B.   RITTENHOUSE 

AUTHOR    OF    "THE    YOUNGER    AMERICAN    POETS1 

EDITOR    OF 

"THE    LITTLE    BOOK    OF    MODERN    VERSE" 

AND   "THE    LITTLE    BOOK    OF 

AMERICAN    POETS" 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON    MIFFLIN   COMPANY 

The  Riverside  Press  Cambridge 


COPYRIGHT,   1918,   BY  JESSIE  B.  RITTENHOUSK 
ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 

Published  February  iqi8 


I  of  ten  passed  the  Door  of  Dreams 
But  never  stepped  inside, 

Tliough  sometimes,  with  surprise,  I 
Ttie  door  was  open  -wide. 

I  might  have  gone  forever  by, 

As  I  had  done  before, 
But  one  day,  ivhen  I  passed,  I  saw 

You  standing  in  the  door. 


ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

THANKS  are  due  the  editors  of  Harper's 
Magazine,  Scribner }  s  Magazine,  McClure *s 
Magazine,  The  Poetry  Journal,  Contemporary 
Verse,  Good  Housekeeping,  The  Lyric,  and 
the  New  York  Times  for  permission  to  re 
print  poems  which  originally  appeared  in 
their  pages. 


CONTENTS 


SECTION    I 

DEBT 

3 

APART 

4 

SILENCE 

5 

WORDS 

6 

LOSS 

7 

FROST    IN    SPRING 

8 

PARADOX 

9 

RETURN 

10 

DEFEAT 

11 

THE    HOUR 

12 

WITH    SONG-BIRDS 

13 

THE    RIVER 

14 

EMBERS 

15 

SECTION    II 

THE    GHOST 

19 

SEA-BIRDS 

20 

THE    BELL-BUOY 

21 

A    SKIFF 

22 

INLAND    WATERS 

24 

MY    WAGE 

25 

ix 

CONTENTS 

WINDOWS  26 

MYSELF  27 

THE    DOME    OF    ST.    LUKE^S    HOSPITAL  28 

CALVARY  30 

ANN    TO    DE    QUINCEY  31 

THE    FUNERAL    BARGE  32 

WHITE    PEACOCKS  33 

SECTION    III 

THE    DESERT    ROSE  37 

FREEDOM  38 

JOY  39 

WHEN    YOU    GO  4O 

A    SEA-CHANGE  41 

THE    END  42 

THE    ANGEL    OF    THE    SWORD  43 

THE    AVOWAL  44 

RELEASE  45 

INTERLUDE  46 

VALUES  47 

THE    GHOSTLY    GALLEY  48 

SECTION    IV 

THE    COAT    OF    MAIL  51 

TO    ONE    DYING    IN    WAR-TIME  52 

SONGS    TO    ONE    PASSING  53 
X 


CONTENTS 

SECTION    V 

A    NIGHTINGALE    AT    FRESNOY  59 

TO    POETS    WHO    FALL    IN    BATTLE  61 

U  I  HAVE  NO  LOVER  ON  THE  BATTLEFIELD"  62 

PATRINS  63 


THE    DOOR    OF    DREAMS 

[I] 


THE  DOOR  OF  DREAMS 

DEBT 

MY  debt  to  you,  Beloved, 

Is  one  I  cannot  pay 
In  any  coin  of  any  realm 

On  any  reckoning  day ; 

For  where  is  he  shall  figure 
The  debt,  when  all  is  said, 

To  one  who  makes  you  dream  again 
When  all  the  dreams  were  dead  ? 

Or  where  is  the  appraiser 

Who  shall  the  claim  compute, 

Of  one  who  makes  you  sing  again 
When  all  the  songs  were  mute  ? 


APART 

AH,  now  that  I  have  loved  you, 

I  can  no  longer  go 
Across  the  wide,  eternal  sea 

When  spring  winds  blow; 

I  cannot  look  on  Como 

When  the  moon  drifts  through  the  air 
And  all  the  rapt,  still  mountains 

Stand  by,  as  if  aware; 

I  cannot  watch  the  fishermen, 

Home  in  the  early  day, 
Spread  all  their  dripping  nets  to  dry 

By  blue  Salerno  Bay,  — 

I  cannot  look  on  Italy 

For,  if  we  are  apart, 
The  pang  of  all  her  loveliness 

Would  break  my  heart ! 


SILENCE 

O  MANY  and  vain,  Beloved, 
The  words  I  spoke  to  you 

In  those  first  wondering  hours 
When  love  was  new ! 

Now  we  have  wandered  together 

Into  a  mystic  land, 
Now  we  are  silent,  Beloved, 

Because  we  understand. 


WORDS 

I  WEAVE  you,  dear,  when  you  are  far, 
Words  fairer  than  all  things  that  are : 
Words  fairer  than  the  light  that  falls 
At  night  in  Rome  on  ruined  walls; 
Words  fairer  than  an  Alpine  Spring 
When  all  the  dawn  is  glistening ; 
Words  fairer  than  the  petals  shed 
From  the  pomegranate's  blossom  red. 

And  all  these  words,  in  dreams  apart, 
Keep  a  still  wonder  in  my  heart, 
And  every  night  they  carry  me 
Out  on  a  tide  of  ecstasy, 
And  every  day  they  bring  me  back 
Along  the  same  enchanted  track, 
Until  that  one  day  when  you  come, 
And  our  eyes  meet  —  and  I  am  dumb ! 


6 


LOSS 

ONCE  was  the  need  of  you 
A  pain  too  great  to  bear, 

And  all  my  heart  went  calling  you 
In  work  and  song  and  prayer. 

But  now  dull  time  has  brought 
A  sadder,  stranger  lot  — 

That  I  should  look  upon  the  day 
And  find  I  need  you  not. 


FROST    IN    SPRING 

OH,  had  it  been  in  Autumn,  when  all  is  spent  and 
sere, 

That  the  first  numb  chill  crept  on  us,  with  its 
ghostly  hint  of  fear, 

I  had  borne  to  see  love  go,  with  things  detached  and 
frail, 

Swept  outward  with  the  blowing  leaf  on  the  un 
resting  gale. 

But  when  day  is  a  magic  thing,  when  Time  begins 
anew, 

When  every  clod  is  parted  by  Beauty  breaking 
through, — 

How  can  it  be  that  you  and  I  bring  Love  no  offer 
ing, 

How  can  it  be  that  frost  should  fall  upon  us  in  the 
Spring ! 


8 


PARADOX 

I  WENT  out  to  the  woods  to-day 

To  hide  away  from  you, 
From  you  a  thousand  miles  away  — 

But  you  came,  too. 

And  yet  the  old  dull  thought  would  stay, 
And  all  my  heart  benumb  — 

If  you  were  but  a  mile  away 
You  would  not  come. 


RETURN 

You  came  again,  but  silence 
Had  fallen  on  your  heart, 

And  in  your  eyes  were  visions 
That  held  us  still  apart. 

And  now  I  go  on  hearing 
The  words  you  did  not  say, 

And  the  kiss  you  did  not  give  me 
Burns  on  my  lips  to-day. 


10 


DEFEAT 

ALL  the  gifts  I  did  not  ask, 
Life  came  and  brought  to  me, 

Until  I  stood  amazed  before 
Such  prodigality. 

And  yet  I  failed  in  my  one  task, 
In  my  one  enterprise, — 

I  could  not  keep  the  fire  alight 
Within  your  eyes. 


11 


THE    HOUR 

You  loved  me  for  an  hour 
Of  all  your  careless  days 

And  then  you  went  forgetting 
Down  your  own  ways. 

How  could  you  know  that  Time 
would  work 

A  magic  deed  for  me 
And  fix  that  single  hour 

For  my  eternity ! 


12 


WITH    SONG-BIRDS 

LOVE  came  to  me  so  many  times 
It  grew  a  common  thing, 

I  thought  that  it  would  always  come 
With  song-birds  in  the  Spring; 

And  so  I  dreamed  and  wondered 
What  next  year's  love  would  be, 

Until  one  Spring  there  came  no  bird 
To  any  blossoming  tree. 


13 


THE   RIVER 

ONE  sultry  night  a  year  ago 

You  came  and  sat  with  me 
Where  in  the  river  breeze  might  blow 

The  salt  breath  of  the  sea. 

You  never  sought  my  hands  or  lips, 
There  in  the  summer  night, 

We  only  sat  and  watched  the  ships 
Shine  with  their  double  light; 

And  spoke  the  careless  words,  we  knew 

Would  hide  the  memory 
Of  all  that  I  had  been  to  you 

And  you  had  been  to  me. 

Then  home  from  the  dark  river,  swept 
By  searchlights  on  the  shore, 

And  all  that  wakeful  night  I  wept  — 
For  you  I  loved  no  more. 


14 


EMBERS 

WHAT  was  once  so  quick  and  glowing, 

Leaping  high  in  flame, 
Like  a  fire  in  night-wind  blowing 

When  you  spoke  my  name,  — 

Smoulders  now  and  scarce  remembers 
How  it  burned  —  but  mark, 

If  you  stir  the  whitening  embers 
Still  outleaps  the  spark ! 


15 


[II] 


THE   GHOST 

A  SCORE  of  years  you  had  been  lying 

In  this  spot, 
Yet  I,  to  whom  you  were  the  dearest, 

Had  seen  it  not. 

And  when  to-day,  by  time  emboldened, 

I  looked  upon  the  stone, 
'T  was  not  your  ghost  that  stood  beside  me, 

But  my  own. 


19 


SEA-BIRDS 

BIRDS  that  float  upon  a  wave, 
Resting  from  the  tiring  air, 

Be  the  hopes  that  I  would  save 
From  despair ! 

Menaced  by  the  sky  above, 
Menaced  by  the  deep  below, 

You  rock  as  on  the  breast  of  Love, 
To  and  fro. 

If  immensities  like  these 

Cannot  fright  a  thing  so  frail, 

I  will  keep  my  heart  at  ease 
In  the  gale! 


20 


THE    BELL-BUOY 

THE  far-off  bell-buoy  in  the  fog 

Keeps  ringing  momently, 
It  does  not  sound  to  me  at  all 

Like  wave-rung  bells  at  sea; 

I  only  hear  as  it  drifts  in, 

•  Softened  by  spaces  wide, 
The  church-bells  of  my  childhood  ring 
Across  the  countryside. 


21 


A    SKIFF 

A  SKIFF  upon  the  inland  streams, 

And  not  a  frigate  on  the  sea, 
Is  this,  my  heart,  that  drifts  and  dreams 

In  sweet,  alluring  vagrancy. 

Out  there  upon  the  main,  I  know, 
Brave  galleons  of  thought  set  sail, 

And  there  the  winds  of  fortune  blow, 
And  there  the  master  hopes  prevail ; 

And  oft  insistently  a  tide 

Sets  seaward  in  my  restless  heart, 

And  I  upon  the  deep  would  ride 
And  in  the  traffic  bear  a  part. 

And  yet  what  stays  me,  that  I  lie 

At  morning  by  some  green-fringed  marge. 
And  smile  to  see  the  schooner  high, 

And  smile  to  see  the  barge. 
22 


A  SKIFF 


And  know  that  they  will  reach  the  main 
League-lengths  ahead  of  me, 

And  bear  their  cargo  home  again, 
Ere  I  have  dared  the  sea  ? 


INLAND    WATERS 

INLAND  waters  by  the  sea, 

Sad  in  your  tranquillity, 

How  good  if  you  could  share  the  shock 

Of  breakers  beating  on  the  rock  ; 

How  good  if  you  could  fly  in  spray 

On  your  rainbow  wings  away ; 

How  good  if  sea-gulls  on  your  breast, 

With  wide  wings  dipping,  came  to  rest ! 

How  dull  it  is  that  you  should  stay 
Locked  within  your  hills  alway ; 
How  sad  it  is  you  cannot  know 
Great  ships  passing  to  and  fro ; 
How  calm  the  winds  that  bring  no  breath 
Of  terror,  danger,  pain,  and  death !  — 
And  yet  how  many  lives  must  be 
Like  inland  waters  by  the  sea. 


24 


MY    WAGE 

I  BARGAINED  with  Life  for  a  penny, 
And  Life  would  pay  no  more, 

However  I  begged  at  evening 

When  I  counted  my  scanty  store ; 

For  Life  is  a  just  employer, 
He  gives  you  what  you  ask, 

But  once  you  have  set  the  wages, 
Why,  you  must  bear  the  task. 

I  worked  for  a  menial's  hire, 
Only  to  learn,  dismayed, 

That  any  wage  I  had  asked  of  Life, 
Life  would  have  paid. 


MM. 


25 


WINDOWS 


I  LOOKED  through  others'  windows 

On  an  enchanted  earth, 
But  out  of  my  own  window  — 

Solitude  and  dearth. 

And  yet  there  is  a  mystery 

I  cannot  understand — 
That  others  through  my  window 

See  an  enchanted  land. 


26 


MYSELF 

THEY  look  at  me  as  if  they  knew  me, 
All  these  people  whom  I  meet, 

But  to  myself  I  am  a  stranger 
Passing  in  the  street. 

I  meet  the  stranger's  eyes  with  question 

Looking  into  mine, 
And  with  a  sudden  recognition 

We  give  a  sign. 

Then  we  are  lost  again,  we  mingle 

In  the  effacing  crowd, 
And  I  forget  those  eyes  that  called  me 

As  though  one  spoke  aloud,  — 

Until  another  signal  moment 

Flashes  identity, 
And  in  the  maze  of  life,  arrested, 

My  soul  looks  out  at  me. 


THE    DOME    OF    ST.    LUKE'S 
HOSPITAL 

ACROSS  the  street  from  me  St.  Luke's 

Towers  gray  and  high, 
And  my  two  windows  frame  the  dome 

Lifting  against  the  sky. 

From  Morningside  the  rising  sun 
First  lights  the  cross  for  me, 

And  from  Riverside  the  setting  sun 
Lingers  that  I  may  see  ; 

While  all  day  long  a  sculptured  saint, 

Holding  a  mystic  book, 
Turns  from  it  to  my  window  pane 

As  straight  as  he  can  look. 

The  doves  that  house  in  every  niche, 

Circle  about  his  head, 
And  on  the  hands  that  hold  the  book, 

Rest  and  are  comforted. 
28 


THE  DOME  OF  ST.  LUKE^S  HOSPITAL 


Now  every  week  within  those  walls 

They  tell  me  many  die, 
And  yet  I  only  see  the  dome 

Lifting  against  the  sky. 


CALVARY 

I  WALKED  alone  to  my  calvary, 
And  no  man  carried  the  cross  for  me. 
Carried  the  cross  ?  Nay,  no  man  knew 
The  fearful  load  that  I  bent  unto, 
But  each  as  we  met  upon  the  way 
Spoke  me  fair  of  the  journey  I  walked 
that  day. 

I  came  alone  to  my  calvary, 

And  high  was  the  hill  and  bleak  to  see, 

But  lo,  as  I  scaled  its  flinty  side, 

A  thousand  went  up  to  be  crucified ! 

A  thousand  kept  the  way  with  me, 

But  never  a  cross  my  eyes  could  see. 


ANN   TO    DE   QUINCEY 

You  questioned,  all  the  restless  years, 
Why  I,  who  went  from  you  with  tears, 
Should  not  have  come  again  to  share 
Your  nights  of  wandering  vigil  there. 

You  sought  my  face  in  every  face 
In  London  streets,  but  found  no  trace 
Of  her  who  gave  you  wine  and  bread 
And  pillowed  on  her  breast  your  head. 

O  blinded  eyes,  did  you  not  see 
Because  I  loved  I  left  you  free  ? 
For  Oxford  Street  to  one  outcast 
Must  be  stepmother  to  the  last. 


31 


THE    FUNERAL    BARGE 

IN  Venice  once  I  saw  a  funeral  barge, 

I  had  not  dreamed  death  could  so  lovely  be, 

Nor  that  one  might  in  peace  so  utter  calm 
Float  to  infinity. 

Under  a  black-plumed  canopy  he  lay, 

Upon  a  velvet  dais,  flower-sweet, 
Two  boatmen  rowed  in  silence  at  his  head, 

Two  boatmen  at  his  feet. 

And  softer  than  a  breast  of  feathered  bird 

The  great  swan  barge  moved  downward  to  the 
sea, 

While  singers  following  made  all  the  air 
Sweet  with  a  threnody. 

I  watched  them  bear  him  seaward  with  a  song, 

To  rest  at  last  his  island  bed  upon, 
And  in  my  heart,  entranced  with  Death,  I  knew 

That  isle  was  Avalon ! 
32 


WHITE    PEACOCKS 

To  SARA  TEASDALE 

ONCE  at  Isola  Bella, 

With  sunset  in  the  sky, 

We  stood  on  the  topmost  terrace— 
You  and  I. 

Around  us  Lago  Maggiore, 

Incomparably  fair, 
Gave  back  the  hues  of  heaven 

To  the  Italian  air. 

Then  up  the  marble  terrace, 
Below  the  cypress  trees, 

Came  a  flock  of  milk-white  peacocks 
With  fans  spread  to  the  breeze. 

Rose-pink  on  each  outspread  feather, 
Rose-pink  upon  the  crest  — 

Never  were  birds  in  plumage 
So  ravishingly  drest ! 
33 


THE  DOOR  OF  DREAMS 

Wherever  we  walked,  they  followed, 

Stately  at  our  feet; 
No  picture  so  enchanting 

Will  any  hour  repeat. 

And  here  in  the  murky  city 

Those  milk-white  peacocks  seem 
To  follow  and  follow  me  ever, 

Like  ghosts  of  a  haunting  dream. 


[Ill] 


THE    DESERT    ROSE 

Who,  passing  through  the  valley  of  Baca,  make  it  a  well." 

I  THOUGHT,  dear  heart,  that  we  had  gone 
Too  far  beneath  the  desert  sun 

To  breathe  again  that  flower  of  flowers, 
That  bloom  of  blooms  in  one. 

But  now  I  see  —  oh,  miracle 

Of  Very  Love  that  cannot  fail !  — 

That  two  who  through  the  desert  pass 
Shall  make  of  it  a  well ; 

And  on  its  brink  shall  flowers  spring 
For  their  eternal  comforting, 

And  from  parched  skies  a  singing  bird 
Shall  light  and  dip  its  wing ! 


37 


FREEDOM 

BE  free  of  me  as  any  bird 

That  circles  in  the  air, 
Be  free  of  me  as  any  cloud 

That  mountain  summits  wear; 

Be  free  as  any  wandering  wind 

That  blows  across  the  sea, 
Be  free  as  any  restless  wave 

That  moves  continually 

For  freest  things  must  tire  of  flight, 
And  restless  things  must  rest, 

And  all  the  lonesome  winds  will  drive 
You  to  my  breast  4 


38 


JOY 

Now  I  can  sing  of  happy  things 
And  let  the  sad  world  go  its  way, 

Since  you  have  spoken  words  that  turn 
The  night  to  day. 

Now  I  can  sow  beside  all  streams 
And  care  not  if  another  reap, 

Since  all  that  I  would  garner  here 
Is  mine  to  keep. 

Now  I  can  scatter  joy  about 

Like  green  young  leaves  that  fall  in 

spring, 
Because  the  tree  is  all  too  rich 

In  bourgeoning ! 


39 


WHEN    YOU    GO 

WHEN  you  go,  a  hush  falls 

Over  all  my  heart, 
And  in  a  trance  of  my  own  dreams 

I  move  apart. 

When  you  go,  the  street  grows 

Like  a  vacant  place  — 
What  if  a  million  faces  pass 

If  not  your  face  ? 

When  you  go,  my  life  stops 
Like  ships  becalmed  at  sea, 

And  waits  the  breath  from  heaven 

that  blows 
You  back  to  me. 


40 


A    SEA-CHANGE 

ONCE  in  a  year  of  wonder 
I  brought  to  you  a  dream, 

And  all  your  waves  gave  back  to  me 
Only  its  gleam. 

But  now  I  come  again,  O  Sea, 

Under  a  changing  sky, 
And  all  your  waves  lie  gray  and  still 

As  dreams  that  die. 


41 


THE    END 

LET  us  cease  now ;  it  is  too  late  to  wonder 
That  love  should  prove  a  mortal  thing  at  last, 
Or  that  corrosive  Time  at  length  should  sunder 
That  which  was  bound  so  fast. 

Let  us  cease  now ;  it  is  too  late  for  weeping, 
It  is  too  late  to  stay  what  would  be  gone. 
Sometime  the  caged  thing  will  escape  its  keeping 
And  leave  but  emptiness  to  ponder  on. 

Let  us  cease  now,  and  without  indecision. 
That  all  is  lost,  there  is  no  room  for  doubt — 
We  were  not  great  enough  for  Love,  the  Vision, 
And  love,  the  flame,  has  swept  us  and  burnt  out ! 


THE    ANGEL    OF    THE    SWORD 

THE  angel  with  the  flaming  sword 
Has  shut  me  out  from  heaven's  gate, 

And  I  may  not  reenter  there, 
Though  long  I  wait; 

And  yet,  O  Angel  of  the  Sword, 

I  do  not  grudge  the  thrust  you  deal, 

For  still  the  keenest  pain  of  wounds 
Is  that  wounds  heal ! 


43 


THE    AVOWAL 

IF  I  had  told  you  not, 

Then  might  you  still  to  me 

Be  my  soul's  secret  fane, 
My  dream,  my  mystery. 

But  now  a  word  has  rent 

The  temple  veil  apart, 
And  shown  me  that  the  secret  fane 

Is  empty — as  my  heart. 


44 


RELEASE 

WHAT  can  you  care,  forgetful  Time, 
Who  drop  all  sweet  things  by  the  way, 

How  long  this  voice  within  my  heart 
Should  call  to  me,  and  stay  ? 

So  loose  me,  Time,  and  let  me  go, 
No  longer  to  old  dreams  a  thrall  — 

Yet  with  what  dream  shall  I  replace 
That  sweetest  dream  of  all  ? 


45 


INTERLUDE 

OFTEN  in  fear,  Beloved, 

I  think  that  it  is  gone, 
This  love  that  made  our  days  and  nights 

A  hope  to  dream  upon. 

And  then  in  some  wonderful  moment 

It  springs  again  to  flower, 
And  you  and  I  are  re-living 

That  first  great  hour ! 


46 


VALUES 

O  LOVE,  could  I  but  take  the  hours 
That  once  I  spent  with  thee, 

And  coin  them  all  in  minted  gold, 

What  should  I  purchase  that  would  hold 
Their  worth  in  joy  to  me  ? 

Ah,  Love,  —  another  hour  with  thee ! 


47 


THE    GHOSTLY    GALLEY 

WHEN  comes  the  ghostly  galley 
Whose  rowers  dip  the  oar 

Without  a  sound  to  startle  us, 
Unheeding  on  the  shore,  — 

If  they  should  beckon  you  aboard 

Before  they  beckon  me, 
How  could  I  bear  the  waiting  time 

Till  I  should  put  to  sea ! 


48 


[IV] 


THE   COAT  OF   MAIL 

TO-DAY  came  word  incredible  — 
That  one  whom  I  love  passing  well, 
One  dear  as  my  own  soul  to  me, 
Must  meet  the  dark  extremity, 
And  weeks  alone  might  keep  alight 
That  spirit  battling  with  the  night. 

What  can  I  say  to  one  who  goes 
Foredoomed  to  fall  before  his  foes  ? 
Mock  him  with  hope  that  he  may  be 
More  valiant  than  his  enemy  ? 
Commend  to  him  the  shield  of  trust, 
Invulnerable  to  every  thrust  ? 

No,  in  these  days  supreme  and  few 
Leave  him  to  forge  an  armor  new; 
For  he  alone,  by  day,  by  night, 
Can  weld  the  burnished  links  aright 
Till  at  the  last  he  shall  prevail, 
Clad  in  his  spirit's  coat  of  mail. 
51 


TO    ONE    DYING    IN    WAR-TIME 

You  hear  the  marching  of  their  feet, 
You  know  your  comrades  go  to  war, 

You  know  that  you  will  never  march 
To  music,  more. 

You  lie  and  dream  through  waning  hours 

Of  soldiers  splendid  in  array, 
And  how  the  bugles  must  be  calling 

At  break  of  day. 

You  think  how  gladly  you  would  go 
To  where  the  fight  is  heaviest, 

But  weariness  is  on  you  now, 
And  you  must  rest. 

Yet  do  not  grieve,  O  stricken  heart, 
A  keener  bugle  yet  shall  blow, 

And  in  the  march  of  nobler  hosts 
Your  feet  shall  go ! 


52 


SONGS    TO    ONE    PASSING 

i 

YOUR  wistful  eyes  that  day  you  left, 
They  haunt  me  all  the  night, 

I  never  saw  in  any  eyes 
So  mystical  a  light. 

I  knew  the  day  you  went  from  me 
That  you  would  come  no  more, 

And  yet  I  said  the  casual  words 
That  I  had  said  before. 

If  only  then  I  had  been  true 
And  held  you  in  my  arms, 

And  shielded  you  a  moment's  space 
From  death's  alarms ! 


ii 

The  world  of  careless  people 
It  will  not  even  know 
53 


THE  DOOR  OF  DREAMS 

The  day  your  lonely  spirit 
Is  called  to  go; 

Nor  all  the  months  of  exile, 

Lying  on  your  bed, 
That  you  have  heard  the  wings  of  death 

Hovering  overhead. 

To  all  the  careless  people 

Who  hurry  to  and  fro 
That  day  will  be  as  other  days  — 

But  I  shall  know. 


in 

I  cannot  sing,  words  mock  me  so. 
I  cannot  sing,  I  only  know 
That  you  are  lying  far  from  me, 
Almost  within  the  Mystery. 

I  only  wonder  what  you  think 
As  you  draw  nearer  to  the  brink, 
I  only  wonder  whose  the  hand 
Will  welcome  you  to  that  strange  land. 
54 


SONGS  TO  ONE  PASSING 

IV 

I  send  no  message  to  you  now, 

There  are  no  words  to  say, 
I  would  not  grieve  you  by  a  thought 

Before  you  go  away; 

But  thoughts  of  mine  already  fledge 
Themselves  for  farther  flight, 

And  they  will  meet  you  when  you  come 
Within  The  Light! 


[V] 


A  NIGHTINGALE   AT   FRESNOY 

NEVER,  they  say,  were  guns  so  loud, 
Never  were  flames  so  bright, 

As  those  that  made  at  Fresnoy 
Inferno  of  the  night ; 

And  when  the  searchlight  fires  lit 
The  slender,  new-green  trees, 

They  could  be  seen  to  tremble 
As  never  in  a  breeze. 

At  Fresnoy  in  the  little  wood 
Just  greening  with  the  spring, 

A  nightingale,  undaunted, 
Lifted  his  voice  to  sing; 

And  in  each  moment's  silence 

When  torn  earth  held  her  breath, 

Before  the  fearful  guns  again 

Uttered  their  Song  of  Death,  — 
59 


THE  DOOR  OF  DREAMS 

The  nightingale,  oblivious 
Of  all  the  ghastly  strife, 

Was  heard  within  the  little  wood 
To  sing  the  Song  of  Life ! 


TO    POETS    WHO    FALL    IN 
BATTLE 

You  who  go  to  battle, 

Careless  of  eclipse, 
And  quaff  Death  like  a  beaker 

Brimming  to  the  lips,  — 

You  who  seek  in  battle 
Things  that  cannot  fail, 

And  raise  this  brimming  beaker 
As  if  it  were  the  Grail,  — 

Thanks  to  you  who  show  me 
What  the  soul  can  be ! 

God  speed  to  you,  brothers, 
And  a  glad  eternity ! 


61 


"I  HAVE  NO  LOVER  ON  THE 
BATTLEFIELD" 

I  HAVE  no  lover  on  the  battlefield, 

I  do  not  go  with  sickening  fear  at  heart, 

And  when  the  crier  calls  the  latest  horror 

I  do  not  start. 

I  have  no  lover  on  the  battlefield, 

I  am  exempt  from  terror  of  the  night, 

I  can  lie  down,  serene  and  unregarding, 

Until  the  light. 

But  on  the  battlefield  had  I  a  lover, 

How  life  would  purge  itself  of  petty  pain, 

And  what  would  matter  all  the  petty  losses, 

The  petty  gain  ? 

I  should  be  one  with  those  who  suffer  greatly, 

With  pain  all  pain  above, 

And  I  should  know  then,  beyond  peradventure, 

The  heart  of  Love ! 


62 


PA  TXINS 

You  know,  dear,  that  the  gipsies  strew 
Some  broken  boughs  along  the  -way 

To  mark  the  trail  for  one  -who  comes, 
A  tardy  pilgrim  of  the  day. 

And  so  my  songs,  that  have  no  -worth 
Save  that  best  -worth  of  being  true, 

Are  but  as  patrins  strewn  to  show 
The  way  I  came  in  loving  you. 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U   .   S    .   A 


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